Test of Time: Joker Style
by Kristen of the Opera
Summary: He told Catwoman, "I'm going to cut off your feet." But he wanted to drive her crazy--he wanted -permission- to cut them off. She had to say it was OK. But who in their right mind would -tell- you to cut their feet off? Warnings for torture inside. Beware


**Test of Time: Joker Style**

OK, originally, this story was going to be with totally original characters, but after thinking about it for a while, I figured it was something the Ledger Joker would do, so I wrote it like this instead. Note: this was something I came up with LONG before the Dark Knight.

**WARNING: THIS IS NOT A FLUFFY JOKER/OC STORY. In fact, I used Catwoman instead of an original character because I ABHOR the thought of the Joker being with anybody who is not Harley Quinn. (I DID used to watch the animated version every day). Catwoman looks like whatever CW version you WANT her to look like, as the looks in this story do not matter.**

**WARNING NUMERO DOS: The themes are extremely dark and psychological, which greatly tempted me to use the Joker from TDK. I just felt like it's something he would do.**

**Please Enjoy.**

**Also, I don't own any of these characters.  
**

"Where _is_ she?" the Joker stared down his henchman from across the table. Fortunately, his gaze was more pleased than angry at the moment. Honestly, he didn't think it could be done.

But it had.

The henchman across the table, a _rookie_, no less, had captured the infamous feline and trapped her in a concrete room with no windows, and one door that led inside. Said door could not be unlocked from the inside, so picking the lock was out of the question. Besides that, she was chained to a pole in the back corner. Reaching the door would be impossible, even for her.

Surprisingly, keeping her in one place was not the problem. It was getting her there. Many many poisonous gases were used in an enclosed space. Also, convincing her that Batman would be hanging out in that enclosed space was a problem, but eventually accomplished. The rookie, proud of his accomplishment, immediately went to go inform his boss, who now seemed very, very happy.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me?" His gaze was a little more intense, now, and the henchman tried to convince himself that his boss wasn't all that frightening. At the moment, he was not doing too well.

"Wouldn't you rather I show you where she is?" he inquired, lifting himself from the chair.

The Joker smirked approvingly, getting up from his own chair. "Of course. Lead the way."

So he did. After walking down a few hallways, he stopped at the door with Catwoman behind it. He knew this had to be the one, because he scratched an 'X' on it to be sure. For a moment, he listened. Inside, he could hear incessant scratching against the floor. While this made his ears hurt, he looked over at his boss, who was closing his eyes and savoring the noise. "Yes. . . I definitely hear something in there. Remind me to promote you later, rookie."

Cautiously, he stuck the key in and turned the lock. Just like that, the scratching noised stopped. When they walked in, Catwoman was looking, or rather, _glaring_ over at both of them. She immediately hissed as they walked over. The rookie could hear the Joker suppressing a mad laugh, but he was chuckling softly under his breath as he leaned down to look at her. Instead of swinging her feet at him, she simply stared back at him with the same intensity, something he had to admire at this point.

Looking over, he could see the Joker's right hand twitching wildly, itching to rip off her mask and expose her.. It surprised him how patient his boss was being, but sooner or later he knew it would have to come off. His tongue habitually ran over the scars on the side of his mouth and he reached into his pocket to pull out the small knife he carried around to intimidate others.

"Leave us, _please_." the Joker waved the henchman away, still staring at Catwoman. Reluctantly, he agreed. Surely it would be a fun spectacle to watch him psychologically torture someone first-hand, or perhaps it would cause him to question his own motives. Though his orders were to leave the two alone, he couldn't help but stick around for a while. "He's probably still there." he heard inside. "But it doesn't really make a difference, now does it?" A pause. "Nothing to say? Not surprising. . . look at how helpless you are. Ha ha. No more of your fancy flips and acrobats." he waved his hands a bit for emphasis.

"I'm not completely helpless." He heard her say. "I could've kicked you unconscious minutes ago."

"So. . . why haven't you?" the Joker taunted. He probably knew full well why she wouldn't, which was why he sat so close to her.

She sighed heavily. "If I want to get out of here, I'll need to stay on your good side."

This particular statement caused the Joker to laugh uncontrollably for about thirty seconds before taking a breath and calming himself. "if you knew anything about me. . ." he said, smacking his lips, his tone much more unfriendly than before. "It's that I don't _have _a good side. Guess you're uh, out of luck."

There was no retort to this. Now, the room was silent for the time being. He could just see the grin on the Joker's face, as he stared at Catwoman for an uncomfortably long time. He almost expected her to suddenly change her mind and swing her feet just out of spite. Certainly knocking the Joker to the ground wouldn't do her any good, but it _would _provide satisfaction.

Suddenly, he heard her screaming "Let go!" and the chains rattling against the pole. He wondered why she hadn't kicked him by now, but that was a personal decision for her to make.

"Look, you're useless to me, besides the fact that you're Batman's new main squeeze. Rumor has it that you know his true identity?"

The response made him chuckle under his breath, if only for a second. "Go to hell."

Now, he heard Catwoman grunt in pain. "If you won't tell me, I'll just tear off your mask and reveal _your _identity to Gotham." Before she could respond to this, he heard the leather tearing apart and imagined her turning her head away in defiance to stall her identity from being known. "Sooner or later, you'll have to make eye contact with me."

Inside, the Joker twirled strands of hair that had fallen when her mask was ripped. He licked at his scars and started to tug at the same strands like a child would. "Wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked.

"You're already told me." Catwoman replied, her voice muffled from being turned away. "Three times, in fact. And each time, it was a different tale." she pointed out.

More silence. "Fine, then. Let's talk about you." His hand ran from the top of her calf down to her ankle before it stopped. "How much do you like your feet?" The question was random, and he asked it as though he were merely talking about the weather. Before he knew what was happening, she had propped herself on one foot and swung the other to knock him back. This caused him to hit the floor, and knock his head on the concrete--hard. But she had been careless and lifted her head, if only for a second, in the process. After assessing the damage for a brief moment, she smirked and hid her face again, hoping he hadn't seen it.

"I like them a lot." she said, a new confidence and pride in her voice. This insane monster could not break her spirit. After what happened to Harvey when he had his little talk with the Joker. . . no. She wouldn't let that happen to her. Bruce was already questioning his own sanity, and had few friends to turn to. She had become one of those few friends in the last few months. With the Joker at Arkham and the mob corrupting slowly into chaos without a solid leader to guide them, Gotham was starting to become a maddening mess of a city. The police had become so focused on searching for 'The Batman,' other misdemeanor crimes had almost been forgotten, and the criminals started to get cocky. Suddenly, an ordinary girl found herself blessed with the stealth and agility of a cat. So she decided to help the innocent, just as Batman did, only to find herself being lectured by Bruce Wayne some time later. But they found they had much in common, and soon often kept each others' company.

"I bet. . ." he sat up slowly, waving a finger at her. "I'll bet you're wondering _why_ I asked that. Hmm?" Any other person with a speck of common sense would have kept their distance. However, because the Joker practically salivated at this kind of response, he moved even closer, and gripped her ankles to provoke her. He had a tight hold on them that made her wince, but she stood still, no longer wanting to give him any more satisfaction. She had only kicked him because he practically asked for it. "Well--I just had a thought. What if. . ." he threw his head back and laughed. The rookie outside jumped, still listening in on their conversation. "What if Catwoman _had no feet_?!?!" Again, he went into hysterics for a moment. "How fast would you be, then?" he laughed again.

And he kept laughing. The mere thought of Catwoman without her feet kept him practically rolling on the ground. What a useless, pitiful thing she would be. No feet! Oh, what would she do without them? The idea was so delightfully insane and twisted to him. When he finally regained his composure, he stood up, straightened his collar as though he were about to enter a formal business meeting, and verified his threat.

"I'm going to cut off your feet. Un_less _you want to tell me who's under Batman's mask." That was a lie. No matter what, he couldn't pass up this opportunity, but "convincing" her to confess Batman's name would be a bonus.

A bonus she was not willing to give him.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her response. It was three words long, started with "go" and ended with "yourself." She'd crack soon enough. . . they all did. Almost affectionately, he bent down for a second and patted her head.. "Suit yourself. I'll be right back with the, ah--sup_plies_." On the way out the door, he started laughing again.

When he heard the door opening, the rookie froze, unable to run away. Somehow, he knew even if he managed to get away in time, the Joker would somehow know he was eavesdropping, anyway. The Joker smirked when he saw the rookie standing outside the door. It wasn't until he actually pinned him up against the wall and put a hand on his shoulder that the rookie henchman regret ever joining his gang in the first place.

"Do you, ah, remember where we--" he stopped to lick at his scars again, as though checking to see if they were still there. "keep the _poisonous gases_?" If looks could kill, the rookie would have been six--make that _sixty_ feet under--right then and there.

Frantically, he shook his head, causing the Joker to pat his cheek almost painfully and let go of him. "No, Rob moved them and, um, I'm not sure--" he was torn between actually finishing his sentence while blubbering, or quitting while he was ahead and keeping his mouth shut. Luckily, he chose the latter.

"That's alright. _I _know." With that, he walked away, running his thumb over a knife pulled out seconds before. He appreciated the metallic feel in his hand. Certainly he would enjoy this. . .

But he wanted her permission first. He wanted _her _to give him the OK before he pulled off the evil deed. Cooped up in that room long enough, and driven crazy with dangerous poisons, she'd crack soon enough. It was only human to crack; to eventually give in; to scream "enough is enough" or, in her case, something along the lines of "why don't you just cut off my feet, already?!" Oh, yes, what a fun experiment this would be. The Joker became giddy at the thought, wondering what he would do when she finally asked him to finish his plan.

He wished Harley could be here at the moment to witness this. _She _would appreciate the madness.

Minutes later, he returned to Catwoman with a bundle of small items that looked like tiny bombs. Each had a little "key" lodged in it that kept the gases from escaping. Pull out the key, and the gas molecules would free themselves, and harm anything that happened to be vulnerable to their effect. Of course, he had his own gas mask to avoid the symptoms. Watching her suffer through them would be enough. He really wanted her to look at him so he could see the fear in her eyes, but she'd do it soon enough, he figured. He did not have the gas mask on just yet. The gas could wait while he drug the mental torture out a bit more.

The way she was chained to the wall, she had to be on her side, facing the back wall, and this was what allowed her to hide her face. What she didn't realize was that he could make her look up at him anytime he wanted. Allowing her to turn her head was one of the few luxuries he allowed, as well as unbound feet. Now, he would take even those two things away. While she wasn't looking, he grabbed her legs, and attempted to bound her ankles together.

She kicked, _oh _did she ever kick! Furiously, she'd jab at him with her heels, swing her feet, and in the end, it felt like she was merely throwing a tantrum. Keeping her face down kept her at a disadvantage. She felt something heavy on her thighs and realized that the Joker was sitting on her, finishing up the double knot. Any kicking she tried to do now would make her look even more helpless, so she sat still and hoped he would get up soon. Instead, he sat there and admired his handy-work. Both of them paused their struggle for a few minutes to catch their breath. Finally, she couldn't feel him sitting on her legs.

She did, however, feel something hot by her ear moments later. His breath made her shudder. "So, did Batman tell you what happened to his last sweetheart? She was a real beauty." He paused for a moment to laugh, still close to her ear. "That is, before she was burnt to cinders." Again, he laughed, feeling proud of his accomplishment. It was her fault, after all. _She _was the one who had Dent and Batman fighting over her. It was only natural that something bad should happen to her.

Bruce did tell her all about Rachel and Harvey. Dawes was long gone, and Dent was missing. She'd promised to help look for him, but it didn't look as though she could keep that promise, at the moment. While the Joker went out to retrieve the "necessary" supplies needed to cut her feet off, she'd been crying and beating herself up over how foolish she'd been to fall into such a simple trap. Now, she'd have to pay the price.

Suddenly, he gripped her face and, while she did her best to fight back (including biting), he had her in a firm grip. For what was possibly the fifteen scariest seconds of her life, she made eye contact with this madman, and the image of her face was burned into his mind forever. Now, the Joker knew her identity, and if, even by the tiniest miracle, she somehow got out, he'd know where to go to go after her. "Well, well. . ." he licked his lips. "Let's just see what Batman has to say about _you _when I tell him you're here." Even if he had to announce it to the whole city, he would make certain Batman knew what had happened to his new squeeze.

She quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact whenever possible. He was still on top of her, growing heavier by the second, and she could still feel his breath in her ear. When she tried to wiggle away, he snickered. "You _women_. You are sooo--_sensitive _about these things." he became more invading, and her body tensed up. "Even Harley reacted this way the first time I touched her."

_At least he's distracted. At least he's not talking about my feet anymore. At least. . . _She managed to block him out with thoughts reassuring her that he was _not _on the subject of cutting off her feet. No matter how uncomfortable, she still had her feet. She still had her feet. . . she still had her feet--

This wasn't working, the Joker realized. Yes, Catwoman was tense and uncomfortable, but other than the occasional grit of her teeth, she was no longer responding. It took away the sport and no longer interested him, so he decided to get straight to business. He slipped on his gas mask and sat in front of her, like a child waiting to be read to. Then, he picked up one of the smoke bombs and gently gripped the key between his thumb and index finger. Finally, of her own free will, Catwoman turned to look at him. It strained her neck, but she didn't notice.

"Each of these little 'bombs' do something different. I picked them specifically for you." He didn't want to spoil the surprise by telling her _what _they did, because she'd find out. Chances were she wouldn't be happy with it. Holding her breath would be useless, because they hung around for more than three minutes. Not to mention she'd pass out anyway and breathe them all in later. But she would be no fun passed out.

Still, she sucked in a large amount of air just before the gas was released and closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. It didn't help, because a tickle in her throat caused her to cough. But this gas wasn't meant to affect the body internally. Her vision soon became fuzzy. The last thing she saw was the Joker holding another smoke bomb before everything went black. She squeezed her eyelids together and shook her head furiously. Upon opening them, she found that she could still only see blackness.

During the moment she'd been to focused on her eyesight to hold her breath, the Joker released the second bomb. Catwoman realized her mistake seconds too late. This particular bomb caused her skin to feel as though she were being pricked by little needles everywhere. She let out a grunt and wiggled around, trying to shake off the feeling. She hardly noticed the Joker laughing hysterically in the background. Again, she was distracted, and he let another one go off.

This one caused her throat to swell, an excruciatingly uncomfortable feeling. There was not enough to choke her, but it felt as though her lungs were closing up, and she gasped like a fish out of water. Her throat also felt scratchy, and each breath seemed to make it worse when it skimmed across.

The last one almost drove her to the point of madness. Actually, she couldn't tell if the Joker had released another bomb, or if it was just her, but there was an annoying buzzing in her head. She shook her head, attempting feebly to make it go away, but it only got worse. _Why is he. . .? My feet--_thoughts of her feet suddenly reminded her of the original plan. "My _feet_!" she screamed.

"Yes?" Under the mask, the Joker had a seductive, sinister grin. "What about them?"

"You said--you said that you'd--so why don't you?" Stringing together a coherent sentence was impossible for her anymore. In this state, the Joker was almost shocked that she could put together more than two words that meant something.

"You, ah, wanna tell me where you're goin' with this?" Just a little more. She just needed to be provoked a little more before she completely snapped.

"Just--just--oh God!" He licked his lips at the sound of her molars grinding together. "If you're going to do it, then just--" he was shaking with excitement, and he rocked back and forth like a three-year-old at Christmas time. "Stop setting off these _fucking smoke bombs_!" she screamed. "Just cut off my feet, already, you bastard!"

"Well. . ." he licked at the scars even more than usual. "If you in_sist_." He pulled a plethora of knives from his pocket and laughed so hard, his henchmen down the hall could hear him. The rookie was long gone. "Let me, ah, take _care _of those for you. Seeing as how you don't want them anymore." He managed to say before he let out another crazed laugh. Anyone with a brain went to the parts of the hideout farthest away from that particular room.

All that could be heard were screams and laughter.


End file.
